


Splinched

by FangQueen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Auror Partners, Botched mission, HP: EWE, M/M, Mild Blood and Gore, Pre-Slash, Splinching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 06:17:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11155989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangQueen/pseuds/FangQueen
Summary: The air was tense with labored breaths and the acrid, copper stench of blood. Late afternoon sun crept across the filthy floor, giving the dust a haunting, orange glow. What remained of the furniture was dilapidated, torn, and scattered. Paint peeled from the walls, and the place was littered with the evidence of various animals that had chosen to make this abandoned building their home. Ron didn't know where they were, exactly, but he knew, despite of all that, it was a hell of a lot safer than where they'd come from.





	Splinched

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a lovely anon, who requested from [this list](https://ohlookagaydraco.tumblr.com/post/160455590058/prompt-list): Dron, #12 "Despite what you think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself."
> 
> Original Tumblr post [here](https://ohlookagaydraco.tumblr.com/post/161638958683/12-despite-what-you-think-i-am-completely).

The air was tense with labored breaths and the acrid, copper stench of blood. Late afternoon sun crept across the filthy floor, giving the dust a haunting, orange glow. What remained of the furniture was dilapidated, torn, and scattered. Paint peeled from the walls, and the place was littered with the evidence of various animals that had chosen to make this abandoned building their home. Ron didn't know where they were, exactly, but he knew, despite all of that, that it was a hell of a lot safer than where they'd come from.

He sat on that dirty floor, dizzy from pain and swallowing the urge to puke. They'd stripped him to just his briefs from the waist down in order to get better access to the wound. He'd been trying his best not to actually look in the direction of his left thigh, but he'd seen it: how mangled and raw it was, as if a rabid werewolf had decided to treat itself to a snack. Malfoy knelt, fuming, between his outstretched legs. The white, cotton undershirt he was wearing was smeared with blood. His trousers looked more black than navy, now, from the grime caking the hardwood beneath them. Ron watched his hands tremble as he struggled with his dress shirt, using a spell to tear it into long strips. It didn't seem to be going so well for him, as oftentimes when Ron would fade back into full consciousness, he'd hear him swearing colorfully over the dismal sparking of a failed incantation.

Ron would've felt uncomfortable, displayed as he was in the present company, had they not been partners in the DMLE for almost a year. They'd seen enough of each other to have stopped caring by now. Although, the time together hadn't necessarily helped put a stop to their infamous bickering. It surprised him, even to this day, how well he knew Malfoy now--and therefore, of course, knew that one doozy of a tirade was on the way.

With a growl of frustration, Malfoy's clipped, harsh tone finally broke the silence, and Ron didn't even have the energy to groan. "I _cannot believe_ you did that. Charging in there with no plan, no backup! You could've gotten us both killed!"

"Malfoy--" Ron attempted to interrupt him, his throat rough and his voice cracking, but he went ignored. He grit his teeth as the blonde lifted his leg to wrap a bit of shirt around and under, longing for some dittany. Without that, if they didn't stop the bleeding and get the hell out of here soon, he was likely to get an infection from this trash heap of a place, or worse. Pity they hadn't thought to bring any; although, who ever thought to carry that sort of thing with them?

"--been working on this case for _months_ now," his partner continued to rant, his movements uncharacteristically graceless as he fumbled with the rag, "and in fell swoop, you managed to royally screw up the whole damn operation! _Of course_ I had to come in and save you, as usual! Can't be trusted to do anything right on your own! And now they know we're on to them, and they're probably already in the process of stashing the artifacts elsewhere! It'll take us _at least_ a year just to get back to where we were!"

"Malfoy--"

"Bloody lucky it didn't end up worse than this, I'll tell you that--"

"Malfoy--"

"And I swear, Weasley, if you don't make it to St. Mungo's--"

" _Malfoy_! Would you just _shut up_ about it already?!" His partner froze at those words, but refused to look at him. "I _know_ I fucked up, alright? I know it well enough, without you carrying on!" It was taking every last ounce of his strength to shout the man into silence at this point, but Ron might very well go mad if he were to be subjected to even another minute of his pointless scolding. The pain was like to make him blind, and he felt his entire body thrumming from the aftershocks. "And anyway, you didn't need to come in and save me, _as usual_ , thanks all the same. I was handling the situation just fine before you barged in and made them panic. Despite what you think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself!"

He knew how ridiculous that sounded the second the words had left his mouth. Here he was, a whole chunk of his leg missing, practically sitting in a pool of his own blood, and he had the nerve to say he could take care of himself. And he _hadn't_ been handling the situation, not at all, and they both knew it. He'd gotten lucky, walking in on a deal going down purely by accident, while researching the cursed artifacts group they'd been tracking. Then he'd gotten _un_ lucky by being grossly underprepared for such an encounter. He felt pathetic--and he was sure Malfoy thought as much about him.

"I _know_ , alright?" Malfoy finally replied, after a long, awkward beat. His voice was strained, and the color was draining from his cheeks. "I _know_ you can, that's not the...And it wasn't just you who fucked up, _I_ was the one who…"

Ron's chest tightened at the look that came over Malfoy's face. He couldn't believe how stupid he'd been, to think that this was all about him making a mistake. It had been chaos, back there. In a split second, they'd found themselves ambushed, and someone had needed to make a quick decision. The fact that Malfoy had thrown them into apparition without probably even a moment's consideration as to where he was taking them was, at this point, inconsequential. Instead of attempting to mend the gaping hole in his thigh, they could've been piles of ash on the floor--that was a win, in Ron's book.

A heavy silence fell over them. He could feel the shame rolling off of Malfoy in waves. He could see his hands shaking, still, as he finished tying a knot in the makeshift bandage. Ron braced his back against the wall behind him, shifting to test the fortitude of the wrap and the remaining strength in his leg, while Malfoy grimaced at the blood on his hands and tried to wipe it off on his top, to little avail.

"Hey," Ron began softly, watching Malfoy's stormy eyes finally shift up to look at him. "What do you mean 'if I don't make it to St. Mungo's'?" A shimmer of emotion passed over the other man's features, and he felt that tightening in his chest once more. "I'm not going to _die_ , you know," he continued, attempting a light chuckle. He was actually glad to see the barest trace of a smirk at the corner of Malfoy's lips, before he corrected himself. "I've been splinched before, I'll be fine."

"You have?"

"Yeah. Ask Hermione about it sometime."

"Sure, will do, if we ever get out of here," Malfoy muttered with a slightly hysterical laugh.

Why did he keep saying things like that? The only reason Ron could think of was: was he afraid to apparate them again? Of course, that made sense. He'd been one of the top students in their year, next to Hermione. He was quick with his wand work in the field, as well. He'd probably never come anywhere near splinching himself, or anyone else, before. Ron knew the feeling; he hadn't been very keen on apparating after his first close call, either. But they needed to get out of here and get him some proper treatment, and he was in no way mentally capable of performing the spell himself.

He reached out to grip Malfoy's wrist, then, feeling the slick, sickening slide of his own blood across his skin. "I'll be okay," he repeated firmly, reassuringly. The blonde made a face like he was choking for a moment, then he turned his hand over to grip Ron's own, squeezing his fingers tight. Ron returned the gesture.

He trusted Malfoy with his life--and although his past self would've thought he was insane, it was the truth as he knew it now. Even when they had first arrived in this place, and he'd cried out at the sharp pain in his leg, he'd forgiven him instantly. It had been an honest mistake. He trusted him, his _partner_ , regardless of the fights they continued to get into, regardless of the things they said _to_ and _about_ each other. He hoped Malfoy could sense that, through his touch: that he trusted him. And that he would be fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/comments = <3!
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://ohlookagaydraco.tumblr.com/) and [LJ](http://fangqueen.livejournal.com/) as well!


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